Meredyth I
Goldengrove
103 of the Tenth moon of the second day
Meredyth married Lyonel Strong in her family home. The ceremony was quite beautiful, causing her to smile, especially since Lord Lyonel had always been kind. She recalled their initial meeting during the tournament hosted by the King. Throughout the event, as the Speton spoke, she found herself glancing around nervously until Lord Lyonel gently squeezed her hand, alleviating her anxiety.
After the vows were exchanged, they walked amidst both of their families, both sets of faces adorned with joyful smiles.
They take their seats at the head table, positioned to face the room. The melodies of music fill the air from the side, accompanied by servers bearing plates of delicious food. As the server presents their meal on silver platters, Meredyth gazes at the spread hungrily, realizing she hasn't eaten since the previous day. Noticing her hunger, her husband, Lord Lyonel, offers a warm smile and gestures discreetly for each delectable dish to be placed upon her plate, ensuring she has plenty to savor.
Arbor gold wine is brought forth in magnificent silver goblets, a sight that elicits a chuckle from Meredyth due to its ironic nature. The esteemed guests, including those deemed as extensions of the groom's and bride's families, partake in the libations, drinking until their hearts are content.
Inside the hall, a multitude of men and women partake in animated dances, synchronizing their movements to the vibrant musical cadence. Against her own will, she finds herself clapping along with the infectious beat, immersed in the festive atmosphere of her wedding feast.
Presently, her newly acquired son approaches the table, extending an invitation for a dance. Caught in a brief moment of uncertainty, she glances towards her husband, who responds with an encouraging smile and a subtle gesture, urging her to accept. Gently persuaded, she concedes and takes his hand.
Ser Harwin, a man of her own age and considerable stature, becomes her partner on the dance floor, causing her cheeks to redden. As the dance progresses, her thoughts wander, briefly entertaining what might have been if Ser Harwin was chosen instead. However, she swiftly dispels such notions, shaking her head to clear her mind as she returns to the table.
Continuing the festivities, additional servings of food were presented. Just as it appeared that every morsel had been consumed, the dishes were cleared away. Following this, hippocras was brought forth, accompanied by succulent fruits that delighted the palate. This experience left Meredyth savoring the lingering sweetness, her tongue involuntarily brushing over her lips.
When the celebration seemed to be drawing to a close, a new array of pastries emerged. Among all the revelry, Meredyth couldn't help but take note - this particular moment stood out as her favorite part of the wedding thus far.
Amidst the joviality, her father took center stage, delivering a heartwarming speech in her honor. Conversely, her brother Robert interjected with humorous remarks that elicited laughter from the guests. Though the audience found it amusing, Meredyth directed an exasperated look toward her brother, playfully expressing her displeasure.
As the festivities continued to unfold, a thought lingered in the recesses of her mind - the imminent bedding ritual. Yet, as the wedding festivities neared their conclusion, her mother approached her and gently guided her away from the table. Meredyth deduced that they might be forgoing the entire bedding tradition, a realization that brought her a sense of relief.
Together, they made their way toward the chamber that had been prepared for her and her new husband, Lord Lyonel. The room was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, creating an intimate ambiance that was further complemented by the delicate fragrance of sweet flowers.
Initially, her hairpins were delicately removed, causing her hair to cascade in gentle waves. Meradyth's anxious fingers grazed through her locks as her gaze remained fixed on the lady's maid, anticipation and nerves intertwining within her. In a reflex of anxiousness, she lightly rubbed her face, a gesture that brought a subtle flush to her cheeks.
Following this, the lady's maid proceeded to unlace her vibrant yellow gown. The gown gracefully descended to the floor, leaving Meredyth standing in its wake. With measured steps, she carefully stepped out of the pooled fabric. Her attention shifted to her mother, who took the gown and meticulously smoothed it, an act preparing it for future use during important occasions, even perhaps when she presented to the King himself.
Now, only her undergown enveloped her form, and she instinctively crossed her arms, creating a modest barrier. The fabric of the undergown, though less substantial, still outlined her figure subtly, hinting at her silhouette beneath. She fought her lady maid when she try to unfold her arm but she wouldn't unfold them from herself.
A resounding "No!" escaped her lips, a fervent protest against the next steps in this intricate ritual. As her undergown was finally removed, her eyes welled with unshed tears, the emotional turmoil within her finding release as the tears trickled down her cheeks. They gently settled her onto a stool, and with tender hands, they began to cleanse her body using fragrant oils. In tandem, her hair was carefully untangled and brushed out, strands falling into place once more.
After completing these attentive preparations, they proceeded to slip a nightgown over her, its fabric carrying the lingering scent of the oils they had applied. Another round of hair brushing followed, a calming gesture amidst the uncertainty. They positioned her at the center of the room, an island of vulnerability amidst the adorned chamber.
With a decisive motion, the door swung open, revealing her Lord husband on the other side. His cheeks bore a flush, a visible reflection of his own emotions in response to the moment.
"We'll leave you to yourselves," her mother's voice resonated with a mix of affection and understanding, punctuated by a gentle kiss upon her cheek. As they departed, accompanied by a lady's maid, farewells were exchanged amidst hugs and lighthearted giggles. Meredyth's own response to this display of affection was an overwhelming shyness, her gaze shifting away from her husband.
Once they were alone, a tranquil hush settled over the room. Their mutual decision led them to recline on the bed, the covers cocooning them within their own world. Breaking the silence, Lyonel's voice pierced the stillness, inquiring about her well-being. The sound of his voice sent a shiver coursing through her, and she turned her gaze toward him.
"I am... well," she replied, her words infused with both honesty and vulnerability. The nerves that had been stirring within her were undeniable, and she confessed to the tumultuous emotions she was experiencing. "More nervous than I've ever been," she admitted, her heart racing to an almost unbearable pace. The intensity of her anxiety seemed to magnify every heartbeat, causing her to fear that her racing heart might betray her at this crucial moment.
His sizable hand reached out to caress her face, the passage of time seems to stretch as his touch imparted a gentle, deliberate sensation. Slowly, he drew her closer, his intent palpable in the air. In the suspended moment, he sought her consent, a question lingering between them.
"May I kiss you, if you don't want—"
Meredyth's own hand rose to meet his face, her fingers brushing against his skin with a tender urgency. Without hesitation, she leaned in, their lips meeting in a delicate, fleeting kiss. A connection was established in that brief touch, a bridge between them that seemed to transcend words.
"We must do our duty," she murmured softly, her words carrying a weight that resonated throughout the room, almost as if they were amplified by the profoundness of the moment. An echo of purpose and responsibility, threaded through the atmosphere as they navigated the threshold of this new chapter together.
Upon awakening the following day, a subtle ache greeted Meredyth's awareness, a tender reminder of the previous night's intimacies. Her fingers grazed lightly over the affected area, a wince momentarily flickering across her expression. As her gaze shifted, she took in the sight of her husband, already attired and engaged in consuming the remaining fruits that had been provided for their morning sustenance. The quiet intimacy of the scene, his presence, and his actions hinted at the unspoken connection forged between them during their shared experience.
"My lord," her voice held a note of quiet reverence as she carefully disentangled herself from the bed, proceeding to make her way to the small table. Settling herself down, a faint wince tugged at her features as she lowered herself into the seat. Despite the lingering discomfort, she focused her attention on the spread of fruit before her. The succulent sweetness of the fruit provided a welcome distraction, a simple pleasure in the midst of her physical sensations.
"Did you sleep well?" His inquiry reached her ears, drawing her focus toward him. A subtle nod accompanied her response, her mouth occupied by a bite of the apple she had taken, the motion serving as her affirmative answer.
"Hopefully I didn't snore; other wives have said I have the tendencies to snore like a great beast," he spoke with a cheerful lilt to his voice, his inquiry a mixture of lightness and playful humor. Her response was a genuine laugh, echoing mirth that underscored their shared moment.
"Meredyth, I am a great deal older than you. I must tell you that you might not conceive a child, but I hope that we are able to if you wish so," his words carried a touch of sincerity, an acknowledgment of the circumstances that might lie ahead. As she absorbed his statement, memories of her mother's teachings and the hopes she herself had harbored for motherhood stirred within her. Being a mother was a cherished aspiration.
In response, she took a deep breath, the weight of his words sinking in. Moved by a surge of emotions, she reached for his hand, her own fingers curling around his. A gentle squeeze conveyed her gratitude, her affection, and the unspoken connection that was being woven between them.
"The mother will bless if so," her words carried a hopeful tone, underscored by a gentle smile. His nod of agreement mirrored her sentiment, acknowledging the possibility and the shared optimism they held for the future.
Engaging in conversation with her husband, they shared moments of companionship and connection, cherishing the time spent together. As their discussion concluded, he departed to make preparations for their journey to Harrenhal – the upcoming destination for their brief honeymoon.
As they left, a chorus of cheerful farewells echoed, a reminder of the support and well-wishing that followed them. A specially arranged carriage awaited her, designed to accommodate the lengthy trip to her new home, Harrenhal. The title of "Lady of Harrenhal" still felt new and somewhat amusing to her, evoking a light laugh at the thought.
Peering out of the carriage window, she observed those who accompanied them. Riding ahead was her new son, Ser Harwin, flanked by her husband. Guards were positioned around the carriage – two at each side and three behind, while two rode in front beside her husband.
Inside the carriage, she found herself in the company of her two daughters, Lady Bethany, and Lady Alysanne, the latter being the daughter of his second wife. Her husband's first wife, Lady Charlton, had borne him Harwin and Larys, the latter of whom she had not yet met. In this entourage of connections and newfound relationships, she hopes through the journey she will bond well with them.
"Are you girls content with your betrothals?" She inquired, her question breaking the prevailing silence within the carriage. Meredyth sought to engage her daughters, her curiosity piqued by their thoughts on the matters at hand.
Aware of their affiliations as ladies of Princess Rhaenrya, Meredyth knew that they will be married off, with one in the Riverlands and the other in the Vale. She recalled that Lady Bethany is betrothed to Lord-to-be Harlenn Waynwood in the Vale, while Lady Alysanne's future was tied to the new lord, Derrick Derry of House Derry, in the Riverlands.
"I've met Lord Harlenn once, and he appears pleasant and rather handsome," Bethany responded with a playful giggle, her words conveying a sense of youthful enthusiasm. Her perspective on her betrothal held a lightheartedness that was both endearing and insightful.
"That's wonderful, Bethany. And you, Alysanne, do you find your soon-to-be husband handsome and kind?" Meredyth turned her attention to Alysanne, seeking her perspective. The question elicited a hearty laugh from Alysanne, which, in turn, left Meredyth somewhat puzzled. "Is he not kind?" she queried, curious about her new daughter's reaction.
"That's not it," Alysanne's laughter spilled forth, followed by a brief pause to collect herself. "Ser Derrick is a squire to my cousin Korban, so I've known him since childhood," she explained, a smile tugging at her lips as she reminisced. "He's a funny man who has a way of making me laugh and feel happy. And, well, it doesn't help that he manages to make me fall in love with him a bit more each day," she admitted with a fondness that was palpable in her words. The genuine affection she held for her betrothed was evident, painting a picture of a relationship that had deepened over time.
"That's great to hear," Meradyth responded, her words carrying a blend of warmth and hope. Her thoughts wandered back to the time when her own parents had informed her of her impending marriage to Lyonel. She recalled the kindness he had shown as her escort during the tourney, a memory that had left a positive impression. As she listened to her daughter's account of love and connection, Meradyth couldn't help but harbor her own aspirations for her marriage. She longed for a bond of affection to form between herself and Lyonel, hoping that their union would blossom into a source of genuine happiness.